


Roman Holidays

by vivaldis_lover



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: An AU in which Italy isn't a friking homophobic country, But it doesn't last long because I run out of ideas, Eventual Fluff, First Kiss, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Michele, Pining!Emil, Post canon, This is dumb I'm sorry, You all deserve well written Michemil fanfictions and I can't give you that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-07
Updated: 2017-03-20
Packaged: 2018-09-30 15:40:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10166204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivaldis_lover/pseuds/vivaldis_lover
Summary: "What if I told you I just landed in Naples?""I'm gonna murder you with my own hands"Emil is in love, Michele can't make sense of his feelings and Sara has a plan that could help both of them.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have no excuses for this. But I had fun writing it! Hope you can have some fun reading it.  
> Headcanons were involved in the creation of this. Michele's mother has a name because I couldn't keep calling her 'Mickey's mom' and similar variations.  
> I apologize for eventual mistakes. I wrote this for fun but also to exercise my english.

Michele finally had some time to relax, time he hoped to spend with his family, maybe catch up with a friend. Have some time for himself, generally, and to worry about trivial stuff that did not concern skating. He totally didn’t see what was coming at him.

He woke up that morning to the sun coming in through the shutters and the smell of coffee. It was spring and the World championship had just ended. He and Sara were staying at their parent’s house for some time, while they were back in Italy. He stretched, put on a pair of slippers and headed to the kitchen.

“Morning,” he mumbled, as he entered the room.

“Look who finally woke up!” Sara’s sharp voice was a pain for his ears first thing in the morning. She was already fully dressed and she appeared ready to go out.

“Coffee, Michele?” his mom asked.

“Yes, please.” He sat at the table and looked at Sara. “Going out already?”

“Elisa and Cristiana are coming to pick me up! We’re going shopping. I don’t think you want to come.”

“Thanks, I’ll pass,” Michele replied, to his mother’s surprise. He was doing his best to give his sister more space, but after being inseparable for twenty years he had a hard time understanding what was an acceptable amount of time spent with her and what was too much. Too many times she had to remind him to let her go. Going to Barcelona had been a slip, but on the other hand he hadn’t rushed to the kiss and cry after her performance. He was particularly proud about that.

Sara smiled, knowingly. “See you later, then!”

When she left, Michele’s mother turned to him, concerned. “Did something happen? Did you guys fight?”

Michele shook his head.  “No, don’t worry. She just wants to spend some time with her friends only.”

She sighed with relief. “Good!” She turned back to the stoves. “There’s apple pie if you want to eat something to eat.”

“No, thanks. I think I’ll go for a walk.”

After spending a lot of time abroad, Michele missed his hometown. Naples was beautiful, especially now, when it was not too hot yet. He took his time to appreciate the seafront, to smell the briny air and listen to the waves crashing on the foreshore. He made a mental note to come back during the summer, when they could bathe in the sea water. Around eleven he got really hungry and decided to stop and buy a pastry.

He sat on a bench and scrolled through his phone’s address book. It was painfully short: because of the fact that he spent most of his time skating and that he was not a really friendly person, he wasn’t close with many people. With the exception of Tommaso, a guy he went to middle school with, the others he was in good terms with were all skaters living abroad. Like Emil.

Michele couldn’t help comparing Emil to an oversized and overexcited puppy whenever he thought about him. He always seemed to have too much pent-up energy to release. He had been way too happy when Michele had asked him to come to Barcelona to cheer Sara on.

“Try to tone it a down a little, will you?” he had told him, after Emil’s too loud ‘yes!’ “I may have promised to back off, but Sara’s still my sister. I’m not gonna let you have her so easily.”

Emil had laughed in response.

He had to admit it: he was lonely. He had only Sara to hang around with, but she had been clear about that: he was too dependent on her and if he wanted to grow out of it, the first step was to spend some time without her. He knew it, but it was not like he had someone to spend some time with, outside of his family. He wished there was someone to keep him company.

Looking at the time, he noticed it was already noon. _“Better go home. Maybe I can help mom with the cooking.”_ He was heading home, when his phone chimed. It was a text from Emil.

 _“Speak of the devil,”_ he thought. _“What does he want, now?”_

He opened it.

_“What if I told you I just landed at Napoli – Capodichino?”_

Michele read the text. Then he read it again. Then he stared straight ahead in complete disbelief.

_“What????”_

_“Just answer”_

_“I will murder you with my bare hands”_

_“So, in case I actually landed in Naples, I couldn’t count on you for a lift?”_

_“COL CAZZO EMIL!”_ He didn’t have to translate the slur for his friend.

Michele was typing with such fury, he could have broken the screen. He ran on the way home, stormed inside the apartment and screamed: “Mom, I’m taking the car!” Which caused his mother to almost have a heart attack, since in that moment she was standing in the atrium, rearranging some flowers.

“Mickey, what happened?” she asked once she calmed down.

“An idiot happened,” he answered, without further explanation.

He cursed all the way to the airport. He had hoped to get some rest, relax, and suddenly the Czech pain in the ass was in his city and God only knew what the hell he wanted. By a stroke of luck he found a spot to park the car almost right outside the Arrivals.

Walking inside the airport, he phoned Emil. The guy picked up after a couple of rings.

“Mi-“

“Tell me where the fuck are you,” he interrupted him.

“So you came to pick me up, after all!” exclaimed the Czech.

“Just tell me where you are,” sighed Michele. He took a look around: maybe he would have been lucky enough to spot him right away.

“In a coffee shop,” tried to explain his friend.

“The _name_ , Emil. Coffee shop is pretty generic.”

He told him the name. It took Michele a couple of minutes to find him. When Emil saw him, he jumped on his feet and sprinted towards him.

“Mickey! I’m so happy to see you!” He threw his arms around the Italian, letting go of the trolley he was dragging behind, which fell on the floor with a thud.

“Calm down, ok?” He tried to get out of Emil’s hug. “ You still have to explain what the hell you are doing here.”

“I’ll tell you later!” He picked up his luggage and they headed to the parking place. “So, where are we going?”

Michele frowned. “You should tell me, genius.”

“Ok, then… Do you mind taking me sightseeing?”

A realization dawned upon Michele. “You don’t have a place to go, right?” he asked.

“You’re right!” Emil didn’t stop smiling all the way to the car. “There was a last-minute offer to fly here and I came. I’ll figure out the rest while I’m here.”

“You’re an idiot,” growled the Italian.

Michele went through several stages, hearing that. First the ‘you could have least told me you were coming, I was supposed to be on a break, not to babysit you’ stage. Then he started to worry about Emil’s lack of plans. Not a lot of people spoke English fluently and Emil didn’t understand a word of Italian. He then got angry at him for making him worry.

He didn’t actually voice any of those thoughts. He just wallowed in his quiet rage for a while.

They didn’t talk a lot during the trip. Actually, Michele didn’t talk. Emil on the other hand started narrating his whole trip, regardless of whether Mickey was listening or not. When he finally fell silent, Michele had calmed down a little.

“I’m bringing you home now. You can use our computer if you need to look for a hotel or something,” he told him.

_“If he hopes I’m gonna be his tour guide, he can forget it.”_

Sara was back when they came home. She and Emil hugged and then he was introduced to the twins’ mother. Of course he made a good impression, being all smiles and cheer. Their mother, whose name was Giuliana, did not speak a lot of English, but somehow they still managed to communicate.

As he helped his mother set the table, Michele noticed that Emil and Sara were whispering to each other, but he didn’t even try to understand what they were saying. Emil was probably there to see her and didn’t want to tell him, to avoid making him jealous. Was he bothered by it? No. Not at all. Emil was probably better than the majority of the guys out there. He was cheerful, always ready to have fun, but also caring, attentive…

 _“Almost sounds like you are the one who has to date him,”_ he told himself.

They had lunch all together. Michele’s mom had an habit of preparing meals as if they always had a guest, so there was something for Emil too. She picked up that habit when the twins were in middle school: they always forgot to inform her when they were bringing a friend home.

“You still haven’t told me why you are here,” Michele reminded Emil. “Or if you have _any_ plan. What do you want to see?”

The boy slowly finished chewing his mouthful and said: “I was thinking about Rome. I’ve wanted to visit the city for a while.”

“Then why the hell did you come to Naples?” Emil seemed to ignore the question, so he went on. “Anyway, you should at least buy a guide, if you don’t want to get lost.”

Emil glanced at Sara. “Actually…”

“Actually we thought you could go with Emil,” his sister intervened.

Michele fell silent for a while, his face expressionless. “ _We_ thought?” So that was what they were talking about, before? He felt his anger growing once again.

“Sara told me you had nothing to do…” Emil added, shyly.

“Oh, _Sara_ told you, didn’t she?!” growled Michele.

His sister jumped to her feet, exclaimed: “Grandma’s calling me, I have to go!” and sprinted away.

“Grandma lives in _Florence_!” he shouted.

At that point Emil started laughing uncontrollably and even Giuliana joined him, even though she understood very little of that conversation. She was used to the shenanigans of the twins, especially to Sara running away from a discussion that way, something that never failed to crack her up. And Emil’s laugh was particularly contagious. They almost didn’t hear Michele shouting at them to stop laughing, first in English and then in Italian. When Sara finally came back, Emil had tears streaming down his face.

“Now, seriously,” Sara began, sitting at the table. Her voice was calm and rational. “I really think going on a little trip is a good idea for you. You’re not hanging around with me and I don’t want to see you all alone all the time, since even Tommaso is away right now.”

Michele mumbled something in response. He knew Sara was right. With the exception of his parents, he was alone there.

“Mickey, are you going to Rome? Is this what they’re saying?” his mother asked, switching to Italian. Emil made a curious face at the sound of the foreign language. Michele glanced at him, at his cheerful expression and big blue eyes. He thought about spending all the time on his own and how boring it could become.

And then he thought about Rome and Emil and how, after all, that morning he had wished someone was there to keep him company.

“I guess so,” he answered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If it wasn't clear, the parts in italics are set in the past.  
> This is a yolo chapter, meaning that I quickly edited this at uni, 'cause tomorrow I leave for three days and I won't have my computer.  
> Hope you like it!

_“Mickey, are you going to Rome? Is that what they are saying?”_

_“I guess so.”_

Giuliana clapped her hands, excited. “Perfetto!” She went to the fridge and started looking for something. “Could you do me a favor, then?”

His mother wanted him to bring a jar of tomato sauce, one of marmalade and one of pickles to aunt Teresa, a relative who lived in Rome. The woman had an habit of preparing sauces and fruit preserves and she had promised her aunt to send her some of the stuff she made. Since Emil looked curious, she tried to explain in her broken English the preparation of the tomato sauce. Sara butted in to translate everything.

No one was paying attention to Michele or cared about what he had to say about the situation anymore, so he went to his room to pick up the laptop and check the trains. _“There goes my relax,”_ he thought, half mad, half resigned.

It irritated him that his sister and Emil had planned this behind his back, but the perspective of spending some time in Rome was actually pleasant. He had been there only once and had always wanted to visit the city again. As he turned on the laptop, he tried to focus on the positive aspects of that surprise trip. Seeing the city and having company.

“Emil!” he shouted. “Come here a moment!”

He heard some noises coming from the kitchen and a few moment later the Czech found his room. “Yes? You need me?”

“I need to know when you are going back home, so I can buy the tickets for the return trip,” he explained.

“Oh, I’m going back in ten days. We’re going by train?”

“Yes. I have no intention of driving through Rome’s traffic.”

He decided they would have stayed there for a week: there was a lot to see and Michele didn’t want to be in a rush. That way, they could take their time and explore the city. Moreover, the visit at aunt Teresa could take even a whole morning. And there was Ostia to see too.

He hadn’t realized that Emil was still there. The guy, after a moment of hesitation, had stepped into the room and was now standing right behind him.

“With Sara and your mom, we were talking about what we could visit. There are so many things to see!” Emil said, putting a hand on Michele’s shoulder and looking at the screen. Annoyed by his gesture, Michele moved his shoulder slightly, as a signal to Emil to move his hand. The boy got the message and put it on the chair instead. He was still leaning over Michele, though.

As they discussed about what to see and where they would stay, Emil, tired of bending over, went on his knees. He placed his crossed arms on the desk, accidentally elbowing Michele. They found a nice Bed and Breakfast, near a metro station and within Emil’s budget. As Michele showed his friend some pictures of the city, listing all the monuments and museums, Emil pointed out the things he wanted to see. Michele wrote everything down on a notebook, preparing a plan for their week.

“There,” the Italian finally said, closing the laptop. “Everything’s booked.”

Emil took Michele’s notebook and checked their plan once again.

“You’re quite meticulous with your planning, aren’t you?” he observed, teasingly.

“It saves a lot of time. You should learn to do it,” Michele replied. “Instead of, you know, showing up in a foreign country without a clue about what to do.”

As he was being scolded by his friend, The Czech sighed and sat on the bed, checking out the room. There was little to nothing decorating the white walls. Only a picture of Michele and Sara after winning their first competition and a poster of Monet’ water lilies.

He took out his phone and quickly texted his parents to inform them that he had arrived without problems. He had totally forgot to do it after the landing. He had been too nervous: after all, he was not sure Michele would actually come to pick him up at the airport. When his friend had called, he had felt a wave of relief.

Michele disappeared for a few minutes, came back with a small suitcase and started packing his things. When he opened the closet, Emil noticed something; he got up from the bed and checked the inside of the closet’s door. His heart skipped a beat.

“You hanged my postcard?” he asked, incredulous.

Michele nodded. “It’s nice. I liked it.”

Emil had sent the postcard a year before, without a real reason. He had noticed it in a kiosk, back in Prague, as he was buying the newspaper: it was a really nice picture of Charles Bridge at dawn and he had felt compelled to send it to Mickey. On the back he had written: _“Prague is beautiful! Come visit soon!!”_ Nothing special or particularly creative, but it expressed a genuine desire.

He had expected him to throw it away or put it in a drawer and forget about it. Not to hang it in his closet.

“Mickey, that’s adorable!”

Michele blushed. “Shut up.”

He finished packing his clothes. Sara then proposed to have ice cream together and take a walk around, to show Emil at least a part of their city. They watched the sunset and chatted for a while, with a sense of familiarity that they all had missed. While they were gone, the twins’ father came back home, so there were new introductions to make.

“You also have to thank my dad for working close to home.” Michele said while they were preparing Emil’s bed. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have had a car to pick you up with.”

“Thanks, dad.”

Michele chuckled.

A couple of hours later they both laid in the darkness. A thin ray of moonlight came in through the window above Michele’s desk. There were some movements coming from Sara’s bedroom and then silence. Sometimes a car passed in the street below the window.

Emil was having a hard time falling asleep: first of all, he was not in his bed. Second, there was Michele sleeping right close to him. The mattress was right next to his friend’s bed. He was so close, he could have touched his hair. He was tempted to do it.

When did it happen? During the Rostelecom Cup or before? Or maybe when Mickey had asked him to come to Barcelona? He had been so happy in that occasion, but Michele had misunderstood his excitement and thought he wanted to see Sara. He was not sure if he had been relieved or disappointed, and whatever he was feeling had come out as a laugh.

Regardless of when he fell for Michele, the fact that he did was an undeniable truth, confirmed by his accelerated heartbeat whenever Mickey was around and his desire to be close to him. He had quickly realized that the Italian was not the most intuitive person out there. It was easy to hide his feelings from him. It had been impossible to hide them from Sara, though. She had confronted him about them while they were going back to the hotel where she was staying, after the Grand Prix Final.

 

_“My brother is dense when it comes to feelings. If you want him to know how you feel, you have to tell him,” she said._

_Emil looked at Michele walking in front of them. They had gone out drinking to celebrate her – although Emil had pushed for a club, in the end they had settled for a bar, as Sara was really tired. The Italian had tried to drink away the disappointment for not making it to the Grand Prix Final and was now tipsy and lost in his thoughts, giving them the opportunity to talk._

_“I’m not sure I want him to know,” he whispered._

_“Why?”_

_“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”_

After that statement, she’d come up with the idea of them two spending some time together. Maybe not having her around could help Michele focus more on other people, or even on himself. So when he found the offer to fly to Italy, he took his chance. He didn’t even think about warning at least Sara that he was coming. However, at the moment Emil felt like he had made things worse for him: if he could not handle them being in the same room, he was not going to sleep a lot.

With all these thoughts running though his head, he tried to stay still to avoid disturbing Michele. He didn’t know that even Michele was awake. He was staying still too, to not disturb Emil. He usually had no problem falling asleep, but the presence in his room was making him nervous. He slowly turned around and stared at the boy. The beard made Emil look older and his voice was quite deep, so it was hard to remember that he was only eighteen.

_“What does he think he’s doing, running around Europe like this? What if I couldn’t pick him up at the airport? What if he hadn’t found a cab or a hotel?”_

Although he knew the guy liked to do extreme sports, he was never too worried about that, but this time he couldn’t help it. He kept imagining all the trouble the Czech could get himself into, being that impulsive. He kind of felt responsible for him.

_“Is this paternal instinct or what?”_

He was a little frustrated. And couldn’t Sara at least mention their plan?

“The fuck were you thinking?” he muttered. Emil jolted, hearing Michele’s whisper. They ended up scaring each other.

“What did you just say?” he asked, with his heart racing for the surprise.

Michele sat up. “I thought you were asleep!”

“I thought _you_ were asleep!”

They stared at each other for a few seconds. Emil was immensely grateful for resisting the temptation of brushing Michele’s hair. The Italian sighed. “I was just asking myself why you two hid your plan from me. I mean,” he went on, preventing Emil from answering. “You thought I’d refuse to come unless you forced me, with your presence?”

The other swallowed. “More or less.” He could not say that he simply hadn’t had the strength to resist the temptation of coming to Italy, the moment he saw the offer. That not even Sara knew he was coming.

 _“Maybe you’ll know the whole truth when this holiday is over,”_ he thought.

“You two are stupid,” the Italian declared, laying down. ”Goodnight, Emil."

“’night, Mickey.”

 

The next morning they took the train at half past seven. When Michele went to check the weather, he saw the sky covered with grey clouds. The weather forecast was not good.

Before leaving the house, Michele’s mother gave him the box with the three jars to give to aunt Teresa and kissed Emil’s cheek, asking him to visit again soon. Her son had to remind her that she was going to see him again next week, since he had to catch the plane in Naples. Sara drove them to the station, hugged both of them and winked at Emil.

“I feel like I made a good impression on your mother,” he noted.

“She likes all the people I’m in good terms with. Which are not a lot. She hopes this will encourage me to make more friends,” Michele replied.

He decided to leave the seat next to the window to Emil, who, after all, was there as a tourist. He made the right choice, since his friend spent almost the whole trip admiring the landscape. He took a moment to observe him: his eyes were sparkling with excitement and his mouth was slightly open in a smile. He suddenly realized that Emil had spontaneously decided to go to Rome with him, instead of asking Sara. After all, Sara was free too. But he chose him. This awareness filled his chest with a warm feeling. He chose his _friend_ , instead of the girl.

“How’s that town called, Mickey?”

“I have no idea! You think I know the name of every small town around here?”

They were not even looking at each other when they were talking, with Emil concentrated on the view and Michele on his book. The first occasionally interrupted the other’s reading to ask how some things were called in Italian and the trip proceeded without inconveniences.

“I wish we could see the sea…” sighed Emil after a while.

The Italian closed his book. “Well, even if we could, today the weather is pretty bad,” he pointed out, leaning on the small table before them. “There’s not the right light. It’s too grey. But you should see it when the sun shines. When the weather is good…”

“It must be amazing,” finished the Czech.

Michele smiled. He patted him on the shoulder. “C’mon, we’re almost there. Let’s take the bags.”


	3. Chapter 3

In Rome they were welcomed by the chilly air and a grey sky.

“I thought the sun was always shining in Italy,” Emil said, to tease his friend.

The Italian groaned but didn’t reply, knowing that Emil was joking.

The moment they stepped out of the train station, Michele headed towards the bus stop, desirous to get rid of the stuff for his aunt as soon as possible. Emil had to speed up to keep up with his stride. Despite being shorter, Michele was faster than him. Emil attributed that to nervous energy. His friend never seemed to relax.

He, on the other hand, had no problem relaxing in every situation. Well, almost every situation. Clearly not when he was sleeping for the first time in the same room as his crush. He had to remind himself that he was lucky, since that appeared to be the only exception at the moment. At least he was able to function properly around his crush and he and Mickey were already pretty comfortable around each other. This helped him deal with vicinity and casual touching.

“Hey, are you listening?”

He realized Mickey was talking to him.

“What?”

“Jeez, you totally spaced out. I was telling you, we’re going to my aunt first-“

“Not the B and B?” Emil interrupted him.

“No, we don’t have the check in until two. We have plenty of time to kill. Also, I don’t want to carry around glass jars in my suitcase,” he explained.

They took the bus. Emil glued his face to the window once again, taking in the sights of the city.

 _“What was he thinking before? He looked so absorbed,”_ Michele asked himself. His friend was quite an open book for him. Emil was not shy about his thoughts, so catching him reflecting about something he would not share was quite the event.

“This city looks so _old_!” exclaimed Emil in that moment.

 _“God, I hope he was not meditating on_ that _!”_

“Are you kidding me? Of course it looks old, it _is_ old,” he told him. The other laughed.

When they arrived at Michele’s aunt’s house, it was half past nine. She and her husband lived in an old building without an elevator, but they refused to move, no matter how much Michele’s mother insisted.

“But what if one of them gets hurt?” asked Emil. “I mean, they’re not getting younger.”

Michele ringed the intercom. “She usually replies that she survived the war, so she can survive not having an elevator.”

“Sounds stubborn.”

“You’re damn right.”

The woman answered to the intercom, in a grumpy voice that terribly reminded Emil of Mickey’s voice. He deduced he had found the side of the family Michele took after. And, in fact, they were welcomed by an old lady dressed in black, who looked like the female version of Michele, only shorter. And older. She spoke a surprisingly good English, but when she was speaking with her nephew she used only Italian, so he could not understand what they were talking about. As the aunt and Michele talked about the family, he settled for looking around the apartment. He walked around the living room, checking the furniture and the photographs on display, all quite old, some of them in black and white.

“ _Michele, ma chi è quello? Il tuo ragazzo?_ ” he overheard aunt Teresa say.

He had no idea what that meant. It caught his attention only because it made Mickey choke on whatever he was drinking. His first instinct was to go to the kitchen and make sure his friend didn’t die. He found him wiping water off the table, blushing like crazy.

“What happened?”

“Oh, I just asked-“ Teresa stared, but her nephew interrupted her.

“Nothing! Nothing happened!”

Emil decided to not ask more questions, since Michele looked like he was about to murder someone. But he was still curious.

For the whole morning Emil had to undergo an interrogation carried on by aunt Teresa. She differed from Michele in this: despite looking grumpy, she was really sociable. They ended up staying for lunch. They were joined by Michele’s uncle, who had been buried in his study for the whole morning, without noticing the guests.

“What did your aunt ask you before?”

He and Mickey were back on the bus, on their way for the hotel. Teresa’s question was probably harmless, but Emil couldn’t resist the temptation of teasing his friend.

The question made Michele blush, in fact. “She asked me if you’re my boyfriend.”

Emil realized his plan backfired: now he was the one blushing. He hid it from Michele by turning to the window and pretending to be very focused on something outside.

“It bothers you?” he asked.

“What?”

“People thinking we’re a couple.”

Michele didn’t reply immediately. Emil’s voice had a strange inflection: it sounded flat and he was saying something that he was supposed to say jokingly. At least that was what he expected from Emil. A joke, innocent teasing. He sounded like he was trying to hide his emotions.

“It bothers me when people assume it. To me is sounds like…” He paused. Emil was still looking outside. “Like they’re saying that us being friend isn’t enough. As if being friends doesn’t mean being close.”

“Makes sense,” replied Emil after a while. He sounded convinced.

They both fell quiet, Emil still staring out of the window and Michele observing the other passengers.

 _“If he is convinced,”_ the Italian thought. _“Why am I not?”_

 

 

They didn’t waste time at the hotel. After checking in, they left the suitcases in their room and started exploring the city. Emil was acting like the typical tourist, stopping to observe every building, taking pictures of everything, to the point where Michele had to drag him away.

“You’re trying to sabotage my trip!” protested Emil.

“You took fifteen pictures of the same building! It’s borderline obsessive!”

“Fair point.”

They finally reached the Pantheon, their first destination. Emil stared at the impressive temple in awe, and once inside he couldn’t take his eyes off the dome. He left Michele’s side to walk around, occasionally bumping into other tourists and excusing himself in Italian, as his friend taught him.

Michele wasn’t even paying attention to the Pantheon. He wanted to make sure the Czech didn’t hurt himself or accidentally destroyed something. Seeing the other so excited filled his chest again with that warm feeling he first felt when he realized Emil chose him over Sara. Watching over him was a little stressful: after all, Emil was a bit of a loose cannon. But he was sure he’d get used to it without problems.

His visible excitement softened Michele. There was something he enjoyed about watching someone being themselves from afar, he realized. He looked at Emil and started to relax. He was forgetting all the things that had made him nervous that day – getting to the train on time, making sure to catch the right bus, finding his aunt’s house and the hotel. They were finally being swept out of his mind. All his focus was on Emil.

And that was a good thing, since Emil was about to crush into a group of chairs. He sprinted towards him and grabbed him by the arm a moment before the disaster.

“What’s happening?!” asked Emil, alarmed.

“You were about to kill yourself,” explained Michele, pointing at the chairs.

“Oh.” He fell silent for a few seconds, then he smiled and looked at Michele.

“What?”

“You’re basically my night in a shiny armor!” he said. “Protecting me and everything.”

Michele snorted, half annoyed and half amused. “It doesn’t count when you’re endangering yourself. That way I’m only protecting you from your own stupidity.”

Emil laughed out loud, getting a couple of glares from other visitors. His laugh had a strange effect on Michele: his heart started racing and his cheeks warmed. His mind filled up with confusion. Was his friend’s laugh supposed to move him that much?

They walked out of the Pantheon and headed to Piazza Navona, to see Neptune’s fountain and the church of Sant’Agnese. Emil was less impressed by the church, but what really caught his attention was the fountain. He walked around it a couple of times in silence. Michele couldn’t understand what he was thinking.

“They sure liked naked people,” said Emil after a while. The Italian started laughing uncontrollably.

“You always come up with the weirdest comments!”

The Czech seemed rather pleased with himself for making the other laugh. It was rare to hear Michele laughing, especially when Sara was not around. She was the one who better knew his sense of humor. Emil’s hopes got high: maybe the trip was having the effect wanted. Michele already seemed more at ease.

It was already almost evening. After the visits they started looking for a place to eat. They sat on a bench checking the closest restaurants on Michele’s phone. Emil took advantage of the situation and leaned on Michele’s shoulder, enjoying the heat coming from his body. He expected the other to push him away, but that didn’t happened.

Michele had been tempted to push his friend away, but after the initial surprise he decided not to. He realized that his annoyance mostly came from the fact that he was not expecting Emil’s move and that, after the surprise wore off, he didn’t mind it that much. Plus, his friend smelled good. He had no idea what kind of cologne he was wearing.

He thought about his aunt’s question. It didn’t come from nowhere, she had always been convinced that he was gay. He couldn’t understand why. They have discussed about it only once and when he had declared that he was definitely not gay, she had asked him, if he was so sure he wasn’t, then he must have been straight. He couldn’t answer that. Romance didn’t have a part in his life, at least not yet. He had never stopped to think about his feelings he had for anyone, except his brotherly affection for Sara.

And he certainly didn’t about Emil as a love interest.

But when he finally found a restaurant cheap enough and that they both approved, he almost didn’t want to move.

 

At dinner they ordered a bottle of wine to accompany the dishes, but that ended up being a mistake. Michele always overestimated the amount of alcohol he could handle and on the way to the hotel Emil had to help him stay on his feet.

“Next time we only take a glass each, okay?” Emil suggested to his drunk friend, when they took the subway.

Michele mumbled something in response.

“I didn’t know you were such a lightweight! Oh, well, at least now I know. I won’t let you drink too much beer when you come to the Czech Republic,” he went on.

Once they reached the hotel and went to their room, Michele collapsed on his bed. Emil went to the bathroom to get changed, while the other laid on the mattress, still awake.

“Love between siblings is a weird thing, don’t you think?” the Italian said, suddenly, when the other came out of the bathroom.

Emil looked at him, intrigued, and sat on the other bed. “Elaborate.”

“Well, a sibling is basically a stranger your parents put in your house. And if you don’t get along is hell. But if you get along it’s amazing. A built-in best friend.” Michele’s voice was a slur. ”And sometimes you don’t hate them, but you don’t really talk and you still love them. It doesn’t happen with people outside your family.”

 _“So he gets introspective when he’s drunk…”_ Emil thought.

“Am I right?” Michele asked him.

Emil shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. I’m an only child.”

His friend went on, ignoring his answer. “And sometimes you think you’re doing what they want you to do, but it comes out you were wrong all along. And suddenly you’re the bad guy.”

“I really don’t think she sees you as the bad guy,” the other interrupted him. “But maybe stop scaring all her suitors off.”

Michele looked at him for a few seconds in silence. “You think so?”

“I’m pretty sure about that.”

Michele pause, his mind contemplating something Emil could not grasp. “Yeah, you’re right.”

He patted his friend on the shoulder. “C’mon, let’s sleep now. You’re tired and drunk and tomorrow we have a lot of things to see.”

Michele nodded. He got changed and got into bed, but something was clearly still on his mind. He turned to face the other bed and laid still for a while, staring at his friend in silence. Emil ignored him, casually scrolling through Instagram.

“Emil, do you like me?” he suddenly asked.

The Czech didn’t immediately register Michele’s question. When he did, his brain went haywire. _“He knows. He totally knows. My plan failed on day one. Oh, shit. Oh, shit.”_ He tried to play it cool and fake disinterest.

“What do you mean?”

“As a person, I mean. Am I a good person?”

Emil stared at him. _“Of course I like you. I’m in love with you. If you’re gonna make me have a stroke, could you at least get my feelings right? Please, Mickey. Otherwise I won’t survive this week.”_

“Of course I like you as a person. You’re my friend.”

Michele seemed satisfied. He turned on the other side and mumbled a ‘goodnight’. Emil looked at the other’s back.

_“Well, I guess I’m not sleeping tonight either.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all those who are leaving kudos! I love you all (and of course those who comment, but I can thank them individually) :)


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Michele woke up before Emil. His head slightly ached, but the pain was bearable. It took him a while to recollect his memories from the night before. He had drunk too much. Again. Then they had come back to the hotel, he had sulked a bit…

And he had asked if Emil liked him.

_“Oh, cazzo.”_

He resisted the urge to slap himself, but only because he didn’t want to wake the other up.

 _“I’m never drinking again,”_ he promised himself. Emil must have thought he was trying to hit on him, with that question. Alcohol sometimes turned him into a mopey mess. That’s what had happened the night before, when he had started to doubt Emil’s friendship and talk about Sara.

He got dressed, as quietly as possible. Emil didn’t wake up. He went downstairs to have breakfast and texted his friend to let him know where he was. _“He’s gonna see it when he wakes up.”_

He saw a text from Sara.

_‘Everything ok? I hope you didn’t kill Emil’_

_‘Everything ok, surprisingly’_

She replied with a thumbs up. Maybe it was a bit early to say it, only a day had passed, after all, and Sara was probably a bit too concerned, but he had the feeling that it was going to be an enjoyable week, despite the embarrassing evening before.

 _“When is he waking up?”_ wondered Michele, a little impatient.

He browsed his social medias for a while, as he ate. He saw a few pictures that Emil has taken the day before, Giacometti being his usual self with some pictures of him and another guy at the pool, somewhere, and Victor’s selfies. One picture caught his attention, as he scrolled down. It was Nikiforov’s hand, with his ring on his finger and the caption simply said: _#engaged_.

At first he could not understand what bothered him about that caption, then he remembered the Grand Prix Final.

_“I wish I had one with Sara!”_

His first impulse was to bang his head on the table. That’s why Sara had glared at him after that. He had wished he had engagement rings _with his sister_. Of course she immediately sensed that those were no ordinary rings. Victor had also kissed them! He was really terrible at reading between the lines, when it came to romantic stuff. He just couldn’t get it.

First he had to remember the night before, then this. He wished he was finished with the realizations for the day. He had had more than enough already.

_“That’s it. I’m never talking again.”_

When Emil came downstairs, he found his friend staring sadly at his bowl of soggy cereal. With all that ruminating, Michele had forgot to eat them, and they were now completely soaked.

 

 

The day after, they went to Ostia Antica. At some point, Emil tried to get Michele to play hide and seek, but the Italian refused, questioning his friend’s ability to stay serious. For lunch they stopped in the cafeteria and after that they stopped in the amphitheatre for a while.

They watched the tourists walk around, up and down the stairs. There were some couples, families, sometimes groups with tour guides. For a brief moment, Emil wondered about how they appeared in the eyes of those people. Did they think of them as friends? Would someone mistake them for a couple? Everything they were doing those days was so couple-like, sometimes he had to remind himself that he still hadn’t confessed.

 He took a look around, fascinated by the site.

“It’s incredible,” he said. “This stuff is more than two thousand years old, and yet it’s still here. And in good condition too. Even when I’m walking through Rome, it feels like I’m walking through a museum. There’s something to see at every corner.”

Michele chuckled. “Well, that’s mostly because we’ve been only in the old city centre. The outskirts are not so nice. And some people would probably tell you that living here is impossible. But it’s true, this city is _really_ old.”

He paused. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“They are trying to build another metro line, but at some point they found ancient barracks. Completely out of the blue. Just to tell you how much there’s still to discover in this city.”

Emil chuckled. “Are you serious?” There was a note of amazement in his voice.

“Totally serious.”

The visit took most of the day, so that evening they just walked around the city for a while without a destination, trying to find the prettiest sights.

Emil was really enjoying his time in Rome. Regardless his and Sara’s plan, he really wanted to visit the city. The time spent with Michele was pleasant. They had fun, visited interesting sites and places, he tried all the good food Michele suggested and in the evening they had some alone time to chat calmly.

He felt they were getting closer. Michele especially was being less strict and more open than before. This made him feel conflicted: on one hand he was happy that Michele was opening up to him, but it did not help him deal with his feelings. After what Michele told him on the bus, after the visit to his aunt, he had felt a little dejected. His friend had seemed really sure of what he was saying and it was an explanation that made sense. He still held on hope, though. Someone like Emil was not going to give up easily, and even if Michele really saw him only as a friend… well, he was there only for less than a week. He didn’t have to see him for while, until the next international competition.

Even Michele was aware of their growing closeness. Really, not having Sara around was so good for him. Not only he and Emil talked a lot, but he was getting used to his friend’s touch. The guy couldn’t help it, he loved hugging and being physically close to people in general. The Italian still felt a bit nervous when Emil touched him, but it was not irritation, like the first times. It was something different, a nervousness that sprouted from another, unknown source. And the fact that he couldn’t pinpoint where that tension came from left him frustrated and confused.

The evening after their visit to Ostia, they went looking for a bar, upon Emil’s request.

“We never do anything after dinner!” he complained. “We just go back to the hotel and sleep. I want to _live_ this city!”

Michele grimaced. “Where do you find all this energy?”

“Please, Mickey! I’m here in Italy only for a week. I want to make the most of it!”

He found it hard to be too stern, when Emil was pleading him with his puppy eyes. He just couldn’t resist them.

Michele sighed. “Ok. But I’m not drinking.”

Emil laughed in response.

They found a quiet place, not too crowded. They sat at a table in the corner, ordered and started chatting. There was something Emil had found out, during those days: his friend was always ready to complain about his own country. He wondered if it was a typical Italian thing or just Michele’s character. Probably a mix of both.

After more or less half an hour, Michele noticed a couple of girls sitting at the table next to theirs. One of them was looking their way when he met her eyes. She quickly turned away and giggled, and then said something to her friend.

“So _?_ Which one you think is cuter?” he heard the other one say in Italian.

“Lower your voice! They might hear us!”

“Don’t worry, they’re foreigners!”

Michele coughed. “Actually,” he said, switching to Italian to Emil’s surprise and getting the girls attention. “He is a foreign. I’m Italian. You might want to lower your voice.” He felt it would have been unfair to pretend to not understand the language and then ask for the check in Italian. This way he could save the girls some embarrassment.

The one who met his eyes blushed and stared intensely at her drink, but the other was completely unfazed.

“I couldn’t tell! Your English is pretty good. What’s your name?” she asked.

“Michele Crispino.”

The girls both snickered. After that they switched to English for the sake of Emil, who was getting frustrated for not understanding what they were saying. The two girls, whose names were Mara and Alessia, took their chairs and moved to Emil and Michele’s table.

“Why did they laugh when you told them your name?” whispered Emil.

“Shut up, you can’t understand,” grumbled Michele. The other didn’t insist and started chatting with the girls, instead.

Seeing Emil talk so enthusiastically with them made him wonder if he was satisfied. This was _living_ the city, right? He had no idea what he meant with that expression.

He was a bit envious of how easily Emil could handle a conversation with a stranger. Although he was grateful for his social skills: that way he could let him and Mara lead the conversation. He could just sit back and relax, letting his friend do the talking. The other girl was awfully quiet too.

Despite the relaxed atmosphere, somehow he was feeling uneasy. He didn’t know why. It was like a needle was nagging him relentlessly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

“I think I already saw your faces around,” Mara said during a pause in the conversation. “Do you live here?”

“No,” answered Emil. “But you may know us if you watch figure skating.”

She snapped her fingers. “That’s it! We have a friend who’s crazy about it. Maybe she showed us a video or something. Right, Alessia?”

The girl nodded, but didn’t say anything. Michele felt sympathetic towards her: she was clearly shy and in the company of a really exuberant person. It was his standard situation those days.

He got up, saying that he was thirsty and was getting something else to drink. From the counter, as he waited for the bartender to notice him, he observed the trio, with the quiet girl and the two chatting so amicably. Even too amicably.

He saw Mara touching Emil’s shoulder and then playing with a tuft of his hair.

The needle was there again.

The pain worsened when Emil responded to Mara’s playful touches.

 _“No, please”_ he thought. _“Don’t play that game.”_

He had completely forgot about ordering. He was standing there at the counter, stiff, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the scene. He had never thought that Emil touching him was something that he reserved for him or something special. So what made him so upset about the whole situation? He stared at the floor, confused and angry, incapable of making sense of his feelings. Then it hit him.

He was jealous.

He rushed to the toilets, unable to watch the two interact anymore. There, he washed his face a couple of time and looked at himself in the mirror. The cold had turned his cheeks red, although he suspected it was not only the effect of the water.

_“Cazzo.”_

It all made sense now. How Emil’s laughter made him feel. How nervous he was when Emil touched him. He had been bothered by his aunt’s question, because she had unconsciously highlighted the problem: he was _not_ Emil’s boyfriend. That’s why he was not convinced even by his own explanation, when Emil had asked him if he was annoyed.

During the Grand Prix and other competitions he was completely focused on skating. Up until a few weeks ago, when he was not skating, his everyday life more or less revolved around Sara – they trained, had fun, and usually spent the whole day together. He didn’t really think about Emil, not even when they were competing in the same tournament, since he was… well, focused on his performance. The pressure left little space for other emotions.

And now that everything else had been taken away and it was just him and Emil, Michele had realized how much he liked having the guy by his side. His excitement was contagious. His good mood was apparently unshakeable. With his negativity, he really needed someone with a cheerful personality by his side. And that someone was Emil.

He cared about him. He liked him. What he had felt was not the kind of jealousy a friend would feel – it would have been ridiculous, they probably would have never met the girl again. He was jealous because she was _flirting._

He laughed, bitterly. _“This is not good.”_

He still couldn’t tell how bad his crush was, not yet. Would have he been able to stand being so close to each other all day long, now? To hide his feelings?

 _“But why should I hide them?”_ he thought, automatically. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t risk it. Maybe later, when Emil was back in Czech Republic. He didn’t want to put him in an uncomfortable situation, especially now, when he was supposed to have fun and relax.

He needed to find the strength to get back to the group. They probably had no idea where he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I just slip a San Crispino reference into this? I might have. Let's pretend it's an easter egg for the italian readers.  
> Any, as usual I hope you enjoy this chapter too!


	5. Chapter 5

Something had gone wrong the evening before and Emil couldn’t understand why. Michele had hidden in the toilets for a while and when he had gone looking for him he had found him staring at the sink.

_“Is everything okay?” he asked._

_Michele’s head shoot up, surprised. Something was definitely wrong, he had never looked so down. Was he upset? And if he was, about what? Or was he just tired?_

_“I’m okay,” answered Michele, denying the obvious._

_“We can go back to the hotel, if you’re tired,” suggested Emil. The Italian shook his head and went back to their table, where the two girls where still sitting. They weren’t able to stay there much longer: Michele was distracted and he felt terribly uncomfortable. They stayed for another quarter hour, then paid for the drinks and took their leave, but that didn’t improve the mood._

_He wondered if Michele was still ruminating on Sara._

_“Hey.”_

_The other turned his head in silence._

_“If you still want to talk about Sara – you know, like you did the night you were drunk – I can listen.” He was hoping so hard that that was the issue. Michele clearly had no intention of sharing what upset him, so he had no choice but guessing._

_Michele smiled faintly. “Thanks.”_

But he still wouldn’t talk. The night before they had barely exchanged goodnights when going to bed. It was almost like when they first met.

 

 

It was his first European championship in the senior division and he was strangely calm. He enjoyed taking risks, he liked competing. Looking around, he noticed that he actually looked calmer that some of the older skaters. One of them was looking particularly tense. Well, pissed, actually. But despite the intimidating gaze, this guy had the most beautiful eyes he had ever seen. He couldn’t help but stare at him, until the skater noticed him.

“You have a problem?” he asked, aggressively. He was in the company of a girl that he first assume was his girlfriend. Her back was facing him and when she turned he realized she was definitely _not_ his girlfriend: they were identical.

“No! Not at all,” he quickly answered, not wanting to anger him.

“Mickey! Don’t be rude!” the girl scolded his brother. She turned towards him. “Sorry, he has a terrible personality.”

“Sara!”

“It’s true,” she replied, innocently. She took a few steps in his direction and extended an hand to shake his. “I’m Sara Crispino and this is my brother Michele. And you are?”

“Emil Nekola.”

At first the guy barely paid attention to him, but then they met again for the World Championship. And the next season, during the Grand Prix. They started following each other on their social media. They hung out together outside the competitions. Michele gradually warmed up to the Czech boy, as he got used to his bubbly personality. Eventually, Sara was not what kept the three of them together anymore.

And slowly, without realizing it, he had started to fall for Michele.

It happened through small steps and that was probably why he couldn’t exactly say _when_ he fell for him. Maybe it started when he saw that Michele, under the surface of his hostile attitude, actually cared about the people around him. How passionate and dedicated he was to skating. Maybe it was because Mickey was level headed and more organized than he was, and God knew how much he needed someone to keep his feet on the ground, sometimes.

He was well aware of Michele’s flaws. But it was stuff he could live with.

And somehow, he now found himself with the old Mickey, the cold and silent one. He was incredibly frustrated: he had made progress, even faster than he had hoped, but something had triggered the regression, the night before. No matter how much he thought about it, he couldn’t understand what he did wrong.

They were walking side by side, Michele checking his map and Emil taking pictures. Their discomfort was palpable in the air and neither knew how to act to loosen up the atmosphere. Emil was usually the one tackling their issues, but at the moment he felt like _he_ was the issue. And he was also afraid he might accidentally give away his feelings.

“Where are we going?” he asked, casually.

“To the Coliseum.”

Pause.

“Is Sara okay?”

Michele shrugged. “Yeah. She’s fine. We’re just texting these days.”

Emil’s question made him stiffen, but the other didn’t notice. Of course he was thinking about Sara. Of course. He could have just asked her to come. It would have been so much simpler.

“Do you wish she was here?” Emil thought talking about Sara was the safest thing to do at the moment. The Italian almost always wanted to talk about his sister.

Michele blinked a couple of times, perplexed. “No? I know it doesn’t look like it, but I can live without her.” He paused. “Also, I _need_ to spend some time without her. Or, at least, that’s what she says.”

Emil already knew about that. Still, he wanted to hear what his friend had to say about it. “Why?”

He took a deep breath. “Well, it’s not something I can deny… I rely on her too much. I was not aware of that until the Rostelecom Cup. When she told me that she didn’t need me to make it to the final, I freaked out. I’m trying to do my best to give her more space, but it’s hard.”

“I see.”

As they talked, they reached their destination. They stopped and stared at the imposing building, a little more relaxed than before. The tension was still there, caused by all the things they were struggling to keep secret, but at least they were talking. The awkward silence was, at least for Emil, unbearable.

“Amazing,” he said, contemplating the Coliseum.

“I knew you’d like it,” replied Michele, with a smirk.

He dared to look at his friend. His eyes were lost in the observation of the Coliseum and the sun’s light gave his hair golden sheens. His beard was a bit unkempt, a sign of Emil’s inexperience with grooming. He had never stopped to take a good look at him. His loss: Emil was really beautiful. With his clean jawline and straight nose. His muscular chest and broad shoulders. He couldn’t help but compare them to his slender built.

Suddenly he wanted to receive a hug from Emil. Only a few days before he would have been irritated by that gesture and now he was craving it. He shook his head.

_“Don’t start with these thoughts. Wait until he goes back home.”_

He was good at lying to himself. He did it when he convinced himself that he was the stronger one between him and Sara. He was doing it now, telling himself that he just had to wait for a better moment to confess. As if it was only a matter of timing. As if waiting was going to make it less scary or easier.

His unconscious fear of rejection was holding him back and being so romantically inexperienced did not help. He had no idea how to act. He had no one to ask. Only Sara, but she was in Naples and that was something he wanted to talk about face to face, not via text.

He watched Emil take a few steps forward and stared at his back. Just a few days and then his friend would have been back to the Czech Republic, he reminded himself. But the thought only made him sad.

He came up beside Emil and together they stared at the monument.

“The first time is came to Rome I was twelve,” he started to tell. “It was summer. We had walked around the city the whole day and I was tired. I remember I was complaining to Sara about it, but then we arrived here. It was sunset. The sunlight hit the Coliseum in a way that it made it look like it was almost glowing. If that makes any sense.” After all those years, the image was still vivid in his mind. Although sometimes he had a hard time describing it. Words didn’t do justice to the sight.

“It does.”

Michele sighed. “I’ve always wanted to see this city again, since then. I feel like I didn’t appreciate it enough the first time,” he confessed.

Emil smiled and stifled a laugh. “Are you appreciating it, now?”

Michele’s heartbeat fastened. Despite the bad weather, despite the grey skies and the weak sunlight, he was enjoying it more. And it was all thanks to Emil’s presence.

“Yeah.”

Quietly, Emil slipped his right arm around Michele’s shoulders. They stayed like this for a while, eyes fixed on the monument in front of them, avoiding eye contact. Michele was breathing slowly and silently, Emil was completely still, as if they were both pretending to not notice what they were doing. As if it was not really them, in that position.

Because they were so determined to ignore each other, Emil didn’t notice Michele’s right hand bashfully moving towards his. He didn’t see it almost brushing his fingertips and then falling back. The momentary audacity was not strong enough to make him touch Emil’s hand.

Michele coughed, breaking the spell, and Emil pulled back his arm.

“So,” said the Italian, clearing his throat. “Are we going in?”

Emil nodded.

 

 

They had dinner in the same place where they went the first evening. As usual, Emil started taking pictures of the food, but Michele had stopped complaining about that. The first time he did, Emil protested that it was only because he was on holiday. And the food looked amazing, anyway. Why did he try to always spoil his fun? He was not serious when he said that, but Michele never said anything anymore about it.

He looked at his excited friend photographing his dish from different angles. When he finally sat down, he took a look at the pictures and selected a few.

“These are going on Instagram,” he declared.

Michele chuckled. Following his friend’s advice, they had just taken one glass of wine each. He was particularly grateful to Emil for this suggestion. The last thing the Italian wanted at the moment was to drunkenly confess his feelings. He took a sip and started eating.

“Man,” said Emil as he inspected his plate. “Tomorrow is already the last day! I’m not ready to go back home, I wish I could stay here longer. This week passed really quickly.”

Michele glanced at him and looked away. _“I wish you could stay here longer, too.”_

“Well, we still have another whole day, tomorrow. Start moping tomorrow evening, okay?” he said out loud. What he was thinking remained in his head.

Back at the place where they were staying, Michele showered before going to bed. Coming out of the bathroom, with a towel wrapped around his waist, he accidentally met Emil’s eyes. They held eye-contact for a couple of seconds, then he saw his friend’s gaze quickly move down his body and return to his phone.

Michele spun around, blushing, grabbed his pajama and went back to the bathroom to finish changing. He cursed at himself for his thoughtlessness. Why didn’t he think about that? In which universe was he comfortable with walking around his crush with only a towel on? When he came back, he avoided his friend’s eyes and got into bed. He didn’t see that Emil’s cheeks were burning too. They exchanged goodnights, turned off the lights and, facing away from each other, tried to fall asleep. It took a while for both of them, too nervous and tense to give in to sleep.

The air was heavy with the weight of unspoken feelings.


	6. Chapter 6

They woke up the morning of their last day in the city with heavy hearts and low-spirited. Emil’s first thought was that he, in two days, would have been back to the Czech Republic. He was not sure if he felt relieved or sad.

In the bed next to his, Michele was still sleeping. He had turned in his sleep and he was now facing Emil. He observed his peaceful face and his chest rising and falling as he breathed. He had indulged in this activity a couple of times during the week – not too much, otherwise he would have felt like a creep. Mickey’s completely relaxed expression was rare to see and looking at it filled him with peace.

 _“This whole trip was a bad idea,”_ he told himself. He shouldn’t have followed Sara’s plan.

He got up and got dressed as quietly as possible. Hearing his friend waking up, he wished his coldness was gone. Unfortunately, his wish didn’t come true. Michele was still clearly uncomfortable about something, but that morning Emil didn’t want to go mad trying to understand what was wrong. Instead, he just acted like his usual self. He discovered it was not that hard for him. Being cheerful was as natural to him, as being sullen was to Mickey.

They didn’t talk a lot during breakfast. Emil limited himself to asking what they were going to see.

The day passed without inconveniencies, just like the days before. They respected their plan, visited what they had to visit and discussed about stuff of little relevance to avoid their issues. That evening they ate in a restaurant in the centre and strolled around a bit. At that point they had stopped talking. They just walked side by side in complete silence, both absorbed in their own thoughts.

Their aimless walking brought them to Piazza di Spagna. They stopped there for a while and then decided to climb the steps. Even if they were not talking, there was a sort of silent agreement that allowed Michele to lead whenever Emil looked uncertain about the way to go. In that case, it was Emil who had motioned towards the steps.

They stood next to each other at the top of the Spanish Steps, enjoying the sight of the city in the evening. Around them a few tourists were taking pictures, but not a lot were left. The majority was still having dinner or already back to their hotels. A gentle breeze blew and the cold air penetrated their clothes.

Michele wanted so bad to just slide closer to Emil and feel the warmth of his body, to rest his head on his shoulder. He almost had to fight the physical urge to do so.

Their holiday was practically finished. The next morning they would have caught the train to go back to Naples. He thought back on their first day. He had felt so happy when he had realized Emil choose him over Sara for that trip. Now the thought only made him miserable.

 _“Because he chose a friend,”_ he told himself. He knew he had been a terrible companion during those last two days, but being so close to Emil was really painful for him. There was apparently no way to soothe his sadness: he was not even happy about going back home, because that meant that Emil would have left soon. He groaned softly, frustrated by all those conflicting feelings.

He glanced at the boy and noticed that Emil was staring at him. He quickly averted his eyes, thinking his gaze could give away his melancholy.

“You surprised me, you know?” he said, breaking the silence.

Emil tilted his head. “When?”

“I thought you’d ask Sara to come with you,” he admitted. He was not sure why he was doing this, why he was bringing the conversation on his sister. Was it a deliberate act of masochism to tell Emil he had no problem with him dating Sara? Emil never told him if he had feelings for his sister, but wasn’t it obvious? He even followed him to Barcelona to cheer on her.

The other looked like he wanted to say something, so Michele went on before he could speak.

“What I wanted to say is…” he mumbled, even though it caused him pain. “I’m backing off. I won’t flip if someone asks her out. Well, I’ll try to, but-“

“Wait a moment,” Emil interrupted him. Michele turned his head towards him. “You’re saying this as if you were talking about me. Are you talking about me?”

“Why, don’t you like Sara?” the Italian asked, taken aback.

Emil was not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. All those efforts to drop hints, all the hugging… He even came to Italy and went on that trip with him. All of this, only to find out Michele thought he had crush on Sara.

“Michele.”

He suddenly had all the attention of the other one. He never called him by his whole name. A part of him was screaming ‘ _do it! Do it!_ ’. The other part, the cowardly one, the despised one, was trying to hold him back. But, at this point, what was the worst that could happen?

 “Sara is not the Crispino I’m in love with,” he blurted out.

There, he did it. Quickly, as if he had just ripped off a band-aid. He immediately turned away to avoid Michele’s eyes and saw the city. He saw that it was still moving on. Michele didn’t say anything.

His hands were shaking, his stomach was twisted in a knot and his heart was beating so fast, he feared it might pop out of his chest. In his mind regret, relief and agitation fought. Michele’s lack of reaction was not helping him.

He heard his friend’s footsteps approaching. He was expecting questions and awkwardness from him, or distance.

Then the Italian grabbed him by the collar.

“I’m going to kiss you,” whispered Michele. He sounded almost angry.

“What?”

“Shut up, shut up, don’t say anything. Just tell me: do you want me to kiss you or not?”

Emil had stopped functioning. The words “yes, _please_ ” were stuck in his throat and didn’t seem to come out, no matter how hard he tried. Michele liked him back? When did it happen? How? Was this the reason for him being so weird the last couple of days?

“ _Dimmi di sì, ti prego…*_ ” he heard Michele murmur in Italian, but he couldn’t understand. The Italian was still holding him by his collar, but his grip was less tight now, more relaxed, a bit resigned. He stared into his eyes, eyes so beautiful he couldn’t believe they were real and that right now were filled with hope and anticipation and maybe a little bit of fear.

He gave up trying to answer and decided to act. So instead of waiting for Mickey to kiss him, he took his hands and moved his head closer. Their height difference was so small, Michele only had to slightly lift his head. And they kissed for the first time.

Something melted inside both of them. All the tension, the frustration and the sadness was swept away by happiness and relief. Michele, for a moment, felt almost drunk on emotions, overwhelmed by them. This was not the outcome he expected: in his scenario he ended up heartbroken. But this was _so_ much better.

He had been too busy sulking to even imagine how it would have been to kiss Emil. And even if he had, his mind wouldn’t had been able to imagine something so _good_. _So right_. His lips were soft and he discovered he liked it, how Emil’s beard scratched against his mouth. His breath still smelled of wine a bit, but it was not unpleasant. Barely another detail to notice and acknowledge.

At some point his hands had slid through Emil’s hair and were now resting there. The Czech smiled against his lips and rested his hands on Michele’s hips. After all the pining, he had no intention of letting Michele go anytime soon. He savored the taste of his lips, grasping at the edge of Michele’s jacket, when the Italian slid his hands on his cheeks. The palms of his hands were so warm, it felt like he had been holding a cup of tea, or coffee, he couldn’t help thinking.

They were loving every second of that first kiss, so caught up with each other that were not even aware of the other tourists anymore. In that moment they were the only ones in the city.

In the end, it was Michele who interrupted the kiss. With his eyes half-closed, he rested his head in Emil’s hollow neck, inhaling deeply the smell of Emil’s cologne. The Czech left one hand on Michele’s hip and with the other he gently stroked his hair.

“Wait a moment,” he said, softly.

“What?” mumbled Michele, his voice muffled against Emil’s skin.

“Was that your first kiss?” he asked.

The other grumbled. ”Are you gonna tease me about it?”

“Of course not! I just… I’m curious.” How could he think he wanted to make fun of him for that? In _that_ moment?

“It was,“ admitted the Italian. “Are you happy about it?”

“I’m just happy I kissed you.”

Michele couldn’t help but smile at Emil’s plain and heartfelt response. He grasped the Czech’s jacket tightly and opened his eyes, staring at his own arms wrapped around Emil’s shoulders. He really was just an idiot, he thought. He wondered how many clues he had missed and how many times Emil had tried to show him his feelings without speaking.

“Shit!” he exclaimed.

“What’s wrong?” asked Emil, concerned.

Michele broke apart from the hug and grabbed his shoulders. “You came to Barcelona to follow me, not for Sara!” He smacked his head and hid his face in Emil’s jacket, before the other could say or do anything. “I’m so dumb!” he groaned.

Emil started laughing uncontrollably.

 

 

They were on their way back to the Bed and Breakfast. Now that the spell of the first kiss was broken, Michele was well aware of the people around them. So when Emil’s hand reached his, he didn’t immediately respond to his grasp, but accepted it quite passively and looked away.

Emil noticed Michele’s uneasiness and decided to let go, but before he could move his hand, Michele squeezed it and interlaced their fingers. The Czech glanced at the other out of the corner of his eye and saw he was blushing. That gesture almost moved him, seeing how hard it was for the Italian being affectionate in public with someone who wasn’t Sara. He still couldn’t believe his luck. The whole situation felt unreal.

He desperately wanted to ask Michele when he fell for him, how he found out, how much he pined for him. He knew it was better to wait for when they were back in their room. Just holding hands was an act of courage for Mickey. Talking about those things out in the street would have been too much for him.

They took the metro and sat next to each other. Emil took their intertwined hands and put them on his knee, gently stroking Michele’s hand with his thumb. The Italian closed his eyes and smiled faintly.

“What are you gonna do when you go back home?” Emil asked.

“Train. Like usual.” He smirked. “Get ready: I’m gonna kick your butt again in the next competition.”

The Czech laughed. “Just wait. Once I build enough stamina, I will crush you with my four quads.”

They always teased each other like this, although it was usually Emil the one who started their playful exchanges. They went on talking about skating. When they reached their station, they almost missed it, too absorbed in their conversation. As they headed to the B&B, they fell silent once again. It was a relaxed silence, this one, the kind that nobody feels the need to fill with words.

For now, there was nothing they were holding back. They just didn’t have anything more to say. For now, everything was settled.

This time it was Michele who reached for Emil’s hand.

-

* Say yes, please…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you the pining was not gonna last long. Anyway, this is the chapter I had the most fun writing, so I hope you'll enjoy this too :) kudos are always appreciated, thanks to those who are leaving them!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of the first multiple chapters fic I write in years. I hope you all enjoyed it! The ending is probably a bit bittersweet, but there's also some shameless fluff 'cause I earned it

Michele felt particularly grateful for being back in their room. There was a lot they still had to talk about and alone time for themselves was needed. As he locked the door behind them, Emil removed his jacket and started getting ready for the night.

“I’m taking a shower,” said the Czech, heading to the bathroom. He stopped on the doorway. “By the way, when are you packing?”

“Now. At least most of the stuff. You should too,” suggested Michele.

The boy nodded and disappeared. When Emil finished his shower, Michele took his place in the bathroom. When he came out, he found that Emil ad slipped into his bed. He was wetting the whole pillow with his not properly dried hair. The Italian looked at him disapprovingly.

“Oh, c’mon Mickey!” he protested. “It took me a lot of time to confess, I have the right to be clingy.”

This made Michele chuckle softly. “Maybe it’s better if we push the beds together, don’t you think? We’re both gonna be more comfortable.”

Emil blinked, snapped his finger and jumped out of bed. Together they got to work, trying to be as quiet as possible. Something almost impossible, but they still tried. After being done, Emil happily jumped in his bed and looked at Michele with anticipation. The Italian got into bed with a soft smile on his lips and laid on his side to face Emil. He stretched out to turn off the main light. Now the only one switched on was the small lamp above Emil’s bed.

“I warn you,” said the Czech. “I’m not gonna sleep a lot tonight.”

The other chuckled. “I thought so.”

They stared into each other’s eyes.

“So,” mumbled Michele. “Is there something that you want to do or we’re just gonna stare at each other?”

Emil wanted to play truth or dare. Michele protested a little, saying it was dumb, but he easily surrendered to Emil’s pleas. So they played. They bickered a little about who should start and, in the end, Emil won the right to ask the first question. Michele chose truth.

“So…” The Czech pondered over the possible questions, with a cheeky smile stamped on his face. The other was already regretting playing. “Okay, I have it. Am I a good kisser?”

Michele snorted. “I don’t have enough experience to properly answer this. My turn.”

“That’s not a good answer! Don’t evade my questions!” he protested.

The Italian grumbled, but eventually gave up and muttered something about enjoying the kiss, feeling his cheeks warming up.

“My turn now,” he said, as Emil silently cheered. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

The Italian stared above Emil’s head as he thought about the what to ask.

“Just out of curiosity. Was that _your_ first kiss?” He vaguely knew about a girlfriend he had two or three years ago. The thought of her did not disturb him – it was actually his lack of experience that bothered him the most and the fact that he was probably less familiar with romantic stuff than an eighteen year old.

“No.”

As they went on with their game, Michele started to feel more at ease. Emil was not really asking risky question or demanding that he did weird dares. He did not know if this was his usual behavior when playing Truth or Dare or if he was holding back. Either way, it made him enjoy the game more.

“Truth or dare?” asked Emil.

“Dare.”

“I dare you to kiss me.”

Michele laughed and leaned towards Emil, pressing their lips together. The Czech put his hand on Michele’s nape, pressing slightly to encourage the other to come closer. The Italian propped himself up on one elbow and pushed Emil’s shoulder, so that he was laying on his back and not on his side anymore.

“Emil…” he whispered, breaking from the kiss. He rested their foreheads together. “What are we?”

“What do you mean?” he asked, still craving Michele’s lips.

“Are we a couple? Do I call you my boyfriend, now?”

Emil chuckled softly. “Yes and yes.”

With a sigh, Michele laid his head on his boyfriend’s chest and declared that he was tired. They both agreed it was time to go to sleep. Emil stretched out to turn off the light. They laid in the darkness for a while, Emil listening to Michele’s breathing and Michele listening to Emil’s heartbeat.

“When?” whispered the Italian, encouraged by the dark. “When did you fall for me?”

He took his time to answer. “I can’t really say.” One hand started stroking Michele’s arm. “A while ago. It happened slowly. I’ve always kind of liked you.”

“Really?” asked the other.

“The first time I saw you, I thought you had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen,” Emil confessed. This made the Italian blush. “And what about you? When did you realize you were desperately and hopelessly in love with me?”

Michele snorted. “Don’t flatter yourself, you’re not that irresistible.” He paused. “I can’t really say too. I realized it only recently, that evening at the bar. But it’s been there for a while, probably. I was just not aware of it.”

They fell silent. In the room above theirs, someone was still moving around.

 

 

The next morning, it was Michele who woke up first. A ray of sunlight coming through the window hit his eyes and he lazily opened them. He was laying on his side, facing the wall. He could feel Emil’s body pressed against his and his arm wrapped around his waist. He yawned and thought of a way to get out of bed without waking up the Czech. He came to the conclusion that it was not possible.

Emil’s breath tickled his neck. He reached his phone to check the time and see if someone texted him. As he was replying to Sara’s text, he felt Emil moving and stretching.

“Morning,” he said in a drowsy voice. Michele smiled and turned to him, putting down his phone.

“Slept well?” he asked.

Emil’s answer was an incomprehensible mumble. He then tried to kiss Michele, but the Italian put a hand on his mouth.

“Brush your teeth first.”

Emil protested weakly and nuzzled Michele’s neck. “You’re so rude, Mickey.”

“Sorry for not liking stinky breath,” the Italian replied. “Also…” He hesitated. “Can you call me ‘Michele’? Just once.”

“Okay, Michele,” mumbled Emil, tenderly.

He liked his nickname. It sounded the same both in Italian and in English. But there was, for him, something more intimate about being called by his whole name. Now it also reminded him of the evening before, when Emil had confessed.

They cuddled for a while, talking about nonsense and light stuff. Emil needed to complain about how much Michele tossed and turned around in his sleep.

“It was hard following you around,” he said.

“It’s not like you had to stay glued to me the whole night,” the Italian pointed out.

They eventually had to get out of bed and finish packing their stuff. After brushing his teeth, Emil went up to Michele and finally stole a kiss. Then he turned back to collecting his things, with a triumphant smile on his face. Michele snorted, but he was smiling.

“Hey, I was wondering.”

They were having breakfast next to the window and outside they could see the clear sky. Hearing Emil’s voice, Michele raised his head from the book he was reading.

“What?” he asked.

The other was grinning. “Should we go again to your aunt? To tell her that now I really am your boyfriend.”

Michele laughed. “That would be a good idea, but I fear we don’t have the time.”

As they were heading to the station, Emil silently said goodbye to the city. They held hands the whole trip.

On the train they were sitting in front of each other, unlike the outward journey. Michele was absorbed in the reading of his book, while the other stared out of the window and, occasionally, checked his phone. When the Italian got tired of reading and put away his book, Emil took his hand.

“Do you mind?” he asked.

The other shook his head. Hardly anyone was paying attention to them.

The Czech sighed. “I really don’t want to go back home.”

After making sure that no one was looking, Michele gently brought Emil’s hand to his mouth and pressed a light kiss on his knuckles. “I don’t want you to go either.” He was finally allowed to say those words out loud.

They both looked out of the window and admired the landscape, much better looking under the bright sunlight of the early afternoon. During the first trip they’d been unlucky and had a cloudy sky.

“I would like to come during the summer.”

“I encourage you to do so,” said Michele. He started listing all the things they could to, all the events they could take part in, all the places to visit. Emil listened to his boyfriend speaking in a blissful state, simply enjoying all the abstract plans he was suggesting. The time for planning would have come later, but for now he was allowed to indulge in their fantasies, without thinking about the concrete problems.

“Of course it’s not that simple to organize,” finished Michele. Because, after all, he was always Michele, and he always remember the practical stuff.

Waiting for them outside the train station in Naples, there was Sara. She knew something was up when she saw Emil being even more cheerful than usual and Michele avoiding her eyes.

“Did something happened?” she asked as they were heading home.

“Oh, we have _a lot_ to tell you!” answered Emil, excited.

There was not a lot left to guessing. At home, as Emil tried to tell the twins’ mother how much he enjoyed the trip, Sara tackled Michele and had him explain everything that happened, from the first days, to Emil’s confession.

“So it was Emil who confessed first?” she asked.

“I just told you. Is it important?”

“Well, I won a bet.” No matter how many times her brother asked, she wouldn’t say who she’d made a bet with.

That evening, instead of eating with his family, the Italian decided to have Emil try Neapolitan pizza. The only real pizza, as he often said when he was abroad. Emil often laughed at Michele’s unwillingness to eat Italian food when he was abroad. To be polite they invited Sara too and, to be polite, she declined the offer, leaving the two boys alone for their last evening together.

Back home, they prepared a bed for Emil on the floor on Michele’s room, but, as they both had imagined, it ended up being unused. When Michele turned off the light, Emil slipped into his bed and curled up against his boyfriend’s chest.

“I’m serious about coming back for the summer,” he declared.

Michele kissed his forehead. “I know. But we’ll talk about it later.”

“Or you could come to Prague. You’d like it.”

The next morning they woke up early, to be sure to arrive at the airport on time. Sara said goodbye at home. During the trip, Emil talked excitedly about what they could visit in his hometown. Michele let himself be infected by his enthusiasm, feeling the need to be cheered up. And to avoid thinking about the imminent separation.

After searching far and wide for a parking place, they finally found a spot. Inside the airport, Michele started showering Emil with recommendations.

“…And remember to text me when you land, ok?” he finished.

Emil chuckled. “Yes, Mom.”

They were in front of the line for the security controls. They looked at each other with uncertainty, hoping the other one would make the first move. Eventually, Michele gestured towards the controls.

“I can’t follow you there,” he stated.

“I know.” Emil shifted his weight from one feet to the other. “So… Goodbye, for now?”

He opened his arms as an invitation to Michele to hug him. Michele accepted the invitation, but before the hug, he placed both hands on Emil’s cheeks and quickly placed a kiss on his lips. Then he wrapped his arms around the Czech and hid his face. He told himself they were going to see each other again soon, trying to ease the pain of the separation. Emil was squeezing him so hard he could barely breathe. Not even his cheerfulness could lighten the atmosphere.

“See you soon.”

Waiting in line, Emil turned multiple times to watch Michele, who waited until his boyfriend disappeared behind the gates. Every time the Czech turned, he looked this close to run back to him.

Gloomily, Michele went back to his car. He sat in the vehicle for a few minutes, watching the airplanes land and take off, fighting the knot in his throat.

Then he smiled.

_“Better go home and see what Prague has to offer.”_

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it till the end of the chapter, I applaud you! I will upload a new chapter every two or three days depending on how busy I am.


End file.
